Choose for Me, Old Santa Claus
by Alicia Blade
Summary: Mamoru has not had a true Christmas since he was orphaned at age seven. Two of Santa's elves set out to make things right by giving him his one true wish: someone to love.
1. Chapter 1

11:53 p.m. Christmas Eve, 2006. I'm rather impressed with myself for finishing this up on time! No time to edit, though, so I apologize for typos and inconsistencies.

Dedicated to Jo-chan, who gave me the idea.

Happy Holidays, lovely readers! May you receive your hearts most desired wish.

_Jolly old Saint Nicholas,  
Lean your ear this way.  
Don't you tell a single soul  
What I'm going to say;  
Christmas Eve is coming soon;  
Now, you dear old man,  
Whisper what you'll bring to me;  
Tell me if you can. _

When the clock is striking twelve,  
When I'm fast asleep,  
Down the chimney broad and black,  
With your pack you'll creep;  
All the stockings you will find  
Hanging in a row;  
Mine will be the shortest one,  
You'll be sure to know.

Johnny wants a pair of skates;  
Susy wants a dolly;  
Nellie wants a story book;  
She thinks dolls are folly;  
As for me, my little brain  
Isn't very bright;  
Choose for me, old Santa Claus,  
What you think is right.

**Choose for Me, Old Santa Claus  
Part One****  
Alicia Blade**

"You want _shoes_ for Christmas?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Normally I would say nothing, but you want cheetah-print peep-toe pumps with fire-engine red, four-inch stiletto heels."

"Well when you say it like that, Mako-chan…"

"Mina, _you_ said it like that."

"Not with such disdain."

Makoto rolled her eyes and leaned back in the café booth, her gloveless hands warm against a mug of hot cocoa. "Where would you ever wear shoes like that?"

"Where _wouldn't_ I? Size seven-and-a-half narrow, by the way. Ami, write that down."

"Got it. So Mina wants $200 dollar shoes, Mako wants a $130 stainless steel fondue fountain, Rei wants $160 400-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, and I would like a $250 digital camera," said Ami, reviewing her notes.

"Who would have thought that of all of us, Ami would be the high maintenance one?" Rei asked with a smirk, dunking a cherry into the mound of whipped cream slowly melting in her own mug.

"So far we're all spending nearly $150 apiece, and that's not including whatever it is Usagi wants. Has anyone talked to her about her wish list yet?"

"No, but I think we need to cap her off at $40. You guys are going to break my bank account," Minako said, grimacing.

"You're one to talk, Miss Cheetah-Print Pumps."

"Where is Serena, anyway?" Rei asked, checking the clock on her cell phone.

"Late, as usual."

Rei glowered at her drink. "Tardiness is one thing but it's been forty-five minutes."

"Maybe we should buy her a GPS tracking system for Christmas," Ami joked, motioning to the waiter to bring another round of hot cocoas.

* * *

There are few things in life for which pleasure does not diminish as one ages. Childish things that get even better as the years pass, simply because they are childish. Miniature marshmallows in your hot cocoa are one of these things. As is making an honest-to-goodness wish on a falling star. Or jumping in slush puddles—so long as your shoes came with a price tag well under $200. 

Usagi Tsukino, fourteen-going-on-fifteen, was at that peculiar age when she was realizing that these things no longer brought about a sense of enchanted delight, but rather _reminded_ her of that enchanted, delightful feeling from years past. Which was almost better.

She had discovered another one of these life pleasures while walking to the café that Saturday morning: catching snowflakes on her tongue. She had stuck out her tongue almost without thinking and soon felt the unique sensation of one small snowflake there, crisp and fresh and instantly melting. The sheer nostalgia of it made her stop in the middle of the sidewalk and look bewilderedly up at the light gray sky. The feathered flakes drifting around her sparkled and wafted and filled the city with something similar to peacefulness. Serenity. Charm. Closing her eyes, Usagi opened her mouth as wide as she could and stuck out her tongue, waiting. She caught another snowflake and the feeling was the same, the taste was unforgettable.

For a moment she felt like a child again, and it was this acknowledgment which made her realize that in order to feel like a child _again,_ one must have—somewhere along the line—stopped being a child to begin with. She must now be a young lady with an adulthood before her, a childhood in the past.

The realization was shocking, and frightening, and so very exciting, so that when, two blocks later, she came to a small public park, she simply had to fall onto a meadow of six-inch snow and open her mouth to welcome the snowflakes, and the reminiscing, in.

Really, who could blame her for losing track of time with such a momentous, landmark occasion as this?

* * *

Then there are other things in life for which pleasure _does_ diminish as one ages. Christmas carols are a good example—to the young they are fanciful and symbolic of a whole month full of joy and gift-giving. But as one ages, and the same songs continue to repeat on the airwaves of every store, restaurant, and radio station during the month of December, they become tiresome. Irritating, even. And completely unavoidable. Another thing that loses its magic with time is the act of choosing a Christmas tree. No longer is the trip fun and full of optimism, but rather a chore that must, one month later, be followed by the chore of _disposing_ of the Christmas tree. 

And of course, there's always Santa—perhaps the ultimate in enchantments that maturity must eventually take away.

Chiba Mamoru, feeling ancient at the age of seventeen-going-on-eighteen, had forgotten the magic of all these things by the time he was nine. However, he may be a poor example, as he had also forgotten the magic involved with marshmallows, falling stars, and slush puddles, if he'd ever found magic there to begin with.

This is not to say Mamoru was unhappy. He was simply… logical. And rational. With his feet firmly planted in the ground at all times.

So when Mamoru came across Usagi that snowy afternoon doing something purely childish and silly and altogether magical—as she often did—he stopped in his tracks, feet firmly planted. She lay spread out on a snow bank, bundled up in a light blue peacoat, a matching set of pink gloves and a knee-length scarf (the scarf almost as long as her twin blonde pigtails), and jeans tucked into yellow galoshes. With her eyes shut tight and her mouth wide open, her tongue out seeking for stray snowflakes, she looked utterly ignorant of anything else in the world. She was unaware of responsibilities, hardships, and the logical, rational man staring at her and shaking his head because he could never, ever understand her.

But the second he felt a smile creeping up on his lips, he turned and quickly walked the other way. He was all too aware that, when it came to retaining his composed, rational senses, Tsukino Usagi could be very, very dangerous.

* * *

"Usagi-chan! We were beginning to think you'd gotten run over by a reindeer!" called Makoto, waving her arms at Usagi, who stood in the café's doorway dusting snow out of her hair. 

"I'm not _that_ late," she said with a mild pout, scooting into the booth beside Ami.

Rei rolled her eyes and made a show of checking her watch. "She's right. An hour and fourteen minutes is practically _early_ according to Odango time."

Usagi scowled but Ami thrusting a list under her nose stopped her from making any snide remarks.

"This is what we've all decided on. Do you know what you want yet?"

Pursing her lips, Usagi took a moment to scan the list. "Wow. You guys are expensive."

"Quality gifts for quality girls!" Minako cheered. "Usagi, you look freezing. Let's get you some hot cocoa." She happily waved over the handsome waiter behind the counter as Usagi passed the list back to Ami.

Usagi rested her elbows on the table with a sigh. "Do any of you feel like we're getting too old for Christmas?"

Four sets of eyebrows shot up.

"She didn't actually just say that, did she?" Rei muttered, and was met with three stunned nods.

"Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. We're fourteen. We're asking for bed linens and fondue fountains instead of Barbie dolls. We haven't gone trick-or-treating in three years."

"Wrong holiday, Usa."

"I was making a point."

"What's wrong, Usagi-chan?" Ami said sympathetically, placing a hand on Usagi's forearm. "Aren't you in the Christmas spirit?"

"We could go caroling," Minako suggested.

"Or go back to my apartment and roast chestnuts and drink cider," added Makoto, who had lived alone since her parents had died just over a year ago.

"That's not it, guys, but thanks. I'm completely in the Christmas spirit! In fact, I just spent half an hour eating snowflakes, I'm so in the Christmas spirit."

"So the truth comes out," Rei muttered with an unhappy snort.

Usagi grimaced. "Sorry, Rei. I'll try to be better about not being late next time. But anyway, that's really what brought on this whole thing. See, I used to catch snowflakes on my tongue all the time when I was a kid, but this is the first I've done it in _years._ And that got me to thinking that… maybe I'm growing up. Maybe we're all growing up."

"Wouldn't the fact that you were late to a date with your friends because you were too busy eating snow lead one to the conclusion that you're most certainly _not_ growing up?"

Usagi stared at Makoto uncertainly, finally mumbling, "I'm not sure I follow."

"I think what Mako-chan is trying to say," began Ami, "is that of any of us, you are still... um… a free spirit, Usagi-chan. You're still very imaginative, and delight in the simplest of things."

"In other words, you are way too easily amused and have the attention span of a goldfish."

"Rei, you're not helping."

"Fine, fine, I get what you're saying," Usagi said, defensively holding up her hands. "It was just a thought I had. After all, Christmas is so geared toward children these days."

"But you're never too old to enjoy spending time with loved ones."

"And bestowing them with lavish, expensive gifts," said Minako, batting her eyelashes at the waiter who showed up at their table with five new cups of steaming hot cocoa. He smiled uncertainly back before quickly scurrying away.

"And eating gingerbread men and drinking hot chocolate," concluded Makoto, lifting up her new mug.

"I'll drink to that!"

The girls grabbed up their drinks, laughing and clicking the mugs together—a toast to the Christmas spirit.

"You're all right," Usagi said, beaming with a dollop of whipped cream on her nose. "Besides, I still believe in Santa Claus. How old can I possibly be?"

"Well, in that case," said Makoto, good-naturedly grabbing the list from Ami's hand. "I guess you don't need us buying you anything for Christmas!" She went to scratch out Usagi's name from the bottom of the list, but with a squeal the blonde snatched it away.

"No way! I'm leaving the important stuff to the big guy, but _you guys_ are getting me that ruby moon pendant we saw at Osa-P last week."

"Goodness, I hate to know what the _important_ stuff is."

"Oh, you know. World peace, true love, a never-ending supply of chocolate ice cream. The usual." Usagi grinned cheekily, but the others just shook their heads.

"You sure know how to keep the big guy busy, don't you?"

"Nothing he can't handle, I'm sure."

* * *

"That's _him?_" 

"Yep. That's him."

"But he's so _old._"

"Mistle, please. He's only seventeen."

"You know what, Toe? Seventeen is _old._"

Mistle and Toe watched from the rooftop across the street as the tall, black-haired boy in the green blazer hurried through the snowdrifts, finally disappearing through the rotating door of his apartment building.

"Okay, I know he's slightly more mature than our usual clients."

"_Slightly._"

"But he's not a legal adult yet, which means…"

Mistle scrunched up her nose, pink from the cold. "Which means he's still a kid."

"Right. And if he's still a kid, that means…"

She sighed. "That he's still in our jurisdiction."

"Exactly."

"But Toe, it says here in his file that he stopped believing in Santa Claus when he was _eight._"

"Well yes, that's true. But when you take into account the deaths of his parents two years prior, followed by two Christmases in an orphanage where his only gifts were the same candy cane and gender-neutral sweater that all the other kids got, you can hardly blame the poor chap for losing his faith so young."

"You're hardly boosting my confidence, you know that?"

"I'm just trying to give you a feel for what our obstacles are going to be."

"An orphan with ten years of anti-Christmas baggage is more than just an _obstacle._ It's like trying to induce the Christmas spirit into the Grinch, or Ebenezer Scrooge."

"Which, if you'd been watching your daytime television Christmas specials, you would know was hardly an impossible task."

Mistle folded her arms and pouted. "Fine," she finally conceded, though not terribly happily. "Do we have any objectives?"

Toe took the file from her and flipped through some pages. "Yep. Right here: 'Best Christmas Ever.'"

"Helpful," Mistle drawled sarcastically, tucking a red ringlet of hair behind one pointed ear. "And do we know what he _wants_ for Christmas?"

Teetering from foot to bell-tipped foot, Toe hummed thoughtfully for a moment, before finally conceding, "Not really, no." He grimaced as Mistle threw her hands furiously into the air. "But we do have this!" From the file he whipped out a small white envelope.

Grabbing the envelope from Toe's hand, Mistle read the address on the front with a glare. "'Santa Claus, North Pole.' Original little tike, wasn't he?"

"He was seven when he wrote that. Give him a break."

With a sigh, Mistle pulled out the letter within, yellowed from time.

_Dear Santa, _

My name is Chiba Mamoru and I live at the Strawberry Fields Orphanage in Tokyo, Japan. I think that I have been very good this year and have some things I would like to ask for this Christmas. I know that you're very busy so I've made the list short. If you could please get me even just one thing I would be very, very happy. I would like:

1. World peace  
2. A life supply of chocolate ice cream  
3. Someone who loves me

Thank you and Merry Christmas,  
Mamoru

"Well," Mistle said, slipping the letter back into its envelope. "Not only do I think you're insane for trying to accomplish this impossible task, but now I'm also depressed."

"Come on, it's cute!"

"Cute? Eight year old boys are not supposed to be asking for someone to love them! Besides, how do you plan on accomplishing this?"

"Well, we only have to get him one thing off this list."

Scowling, Mistle muttered, "And I suppose that's _not_ going to be the ice cream?"

"Honestly, Mistle, what would a grown man do with a life supply of ice cream?"

"Ha! You do agree that he's too old!"

Met with Toe's bright green eyes glaring coldly, Mistle's quietly returned to sulking.

"We're going to find him somebody to love, and who loves him," Toe said with determination. "And we're going to do it by Christmas."

"That's all well and good, Toe, but we're _Christmas elves,_ not… not Cupid!"

Sticking his small, pointy nose haughtily into the air, Toe proclaimed, "Yes, but Cupid was really just a glorified elf. Come on, we better get to work." Without waiting for further protests, Toe whipped his bright red cape around him and disappeared in a flurry of snow.

* * *

Mamoru put the filter in his coffeepot, filled it with fresh grinds from the café down the street, and turned it on. His late-afternoon cup of jo had become somewhat of a ritual on cold December days—something to look forward to as he trekked through the snow and desperately tried to keep his hands warm in his jacket pockets. Plus, the caffeine would give him just enough of a perk to get him through the last 100 pages of _War and Peace,_ which he'd been reading diligently for two hours every evening for weeks. 

As the coffeepot set to burbling and hissing, Mamoru retreated from the kitchen. He took a moment to survey his living room: black bookshelves brimming with novels and reference books of every shape and size, some well-loved, some hardly touched; a modern black leather sofa and matching recliner set around a not-so-modern cedar coffee table; blinds on the windows but no drapes; one contemporary painting above the brick fireplace that he had purchased in an attempt to add character to the space, but instead had only set him back $400 for a canvas that he was sure he could have painted himself.

It wasn't much, but it was his home. It was warm—he'd left the heater on all day. It was quiet. And it was his, to share with no one else.

His eyes fell on the corner between the fireplace and the sliding glass doors that led to the small balcony. He had cleared the corner of a stack of magazines and an underused end table over a week ago with the intention of eventually filling it with a Christmas tree. But since then the days had come and gone and Mamoru had begun to wonder—what's the point? After all, he would be the only one who would see it and he didn't even like Christmas. That much. Plus, he would also have to buy lights and ornaments and a big star or something, and it all started to sound like a lot of time and money and work. So the corner continued to be empty.

"Next year," he told it, with a reassuring nod, just as the coffeepot made its telltale gurgling, alerting him that the coffee was done.

He filled himself a cup with the tiniest splash of milk and made his way to the sofa and Tolstoy. But no sooner had he sat down than his eyes made their way to the glass door, spotting the drifting snow outside. It reminded him of seeing Usagi earlier that day, sprawled out on the snow bank, focusing so intently on catching the errant flakes on her tongue. Looking so joyful, so angelic, so terribly Christmasy.

Standing, he carried his mug to the door and slowly opened it. A blast of cool air hit him, blowing the steam from his coffee back into his face. He stuck his head outside, not daring to venture onto the snow-covered patio in his slippered feet. The snowflakes were instantly clinging to his hair, his shoulders, his eyelashes. Slowly, he parted his lips and let his tongue snake outside. Closing his eyes, he waited, feeling the tips of his ears already beginning to numb. Soon, he felt the melting, feather, almost nonexistent touch of a large snowflake melting on his tongue. Startled, he jerked both his tongue and his head back inside. His coffee splashed up over the edge of the cup and he quickly set to licking the drips before they could splash down on his carpet. When the coffee was secure, he looked out the window again. The snow kept falling, ignorant of Mamoru at his window, watching.

With a sigh, Mamoru shut the door. He understood that there was something special about catching snowflakes on your tongue, he just didn't understand what that something was.

* * *

"Toe, why are we in here?" 

"Research."

Mistle looked around her in quiet speculation. "What are we researching, plush toys?"

Toe simply shushed her and continued to peer out the glass walls of the arcade crane game. With a sigh, Mistle slumped back against a Mickey Mouse doll, inches taller than her current form, and let her eyes wander over the other imprisoned toys. Just as she was admiring a handsome doll wearing a cape and top hat, Toe grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her toward the glass.

"There he is!"

Indeed, Chiba Mamoru had just entered the arcade and was making his way casually toward the counter at the back, his eyes scanning the room as he did so.

"Okay. We've concluded that he likes to spend time at the arcade—like every other seventeen year old boy. Can we leave now?"

"You're missing the point. Listen," Toe whipped out Mamoru's file from beneath his short, pointed hat. "Mamoru comes in here almost every afternoon and orders a either a milkshake or a cup of coffee—and sometimes onion rings—and either reads or talks to the clerk behind the counter, Motoki, his best friend."

Mistle yawned.

"That is, until _they_ come in."

Looking down, Mistle looked at the paper Toe was pointing at. It held a photograph of five teenage girls, their names listed below with arrows indicating who was who. All five girls were smiling, and pretty, and wearing Santa hats.

"Not following," she said with a shrug.

Toe rolled his eyes and slammed the file shut. "Whether he has to wait for five minutes or five hours, Mamoru will sit at that counter until these girls show up. When they do, he will get up, go to their table, and…" Toe wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Mistle wiggled hers back, for no other reason than to let Toe know how stupid he looked when he did that.

"And flirt!" he finally concluded, throwing his arms into the air with irritation.

"He flirts with five girls at once? And we're supposed to believe that he's looking for _the one_ right now?"

"No, he flirts with two girls. These two." He pointed at the two girls standing at opposite ends of the picture, one with long, silky black hair, and the other with long yellow-blonde hair tied back with a red bow. "Rei and Minako. He _talks_ to these two." He tapped the photograph where a girl with short blue hair stood, and then the tallest girl with her brown hair back in a loose pony tail, stood. "That's Ami and Makoto."

"So what does he do with this Usagi girl?" Mistle asked, pointing at the girl who stood glowing in the center, with her impossibly long golden hair done up in two ball-shaped buns, the tails dangling down out of the picture.

Toe sighed sadly. "He teases her."

"Teases her?"

"It's strange—he's really just about the nicest guy, except around her. He's always making fun of her for something or other. But then, she teases him right back. Suffice to say they truly despise each other."

Wrinkling up her nose, Mistle closed the file in Toe's hands. "So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that our best bets will be either Rei or Minako, since there's already attraction there. Specifically, I think we should try to hook him up with Rei. She's smart, elegant, and hard-working. I think they'll be a perfect pair."

"Okay…" Mistle drawled, feeling oddly unsettled, though she knew she had no reason not to trust Toe's judgment. He obviously knew a lot more about Mamoru than she did. "And how are we going to hook them up, exactly?"

Before Toe could answer, the doors to the arcade slid open and Toe launched himself at the glass. "There they are! Now watch."

The five girls from the picture strolled into the arcade, instantly filling the place with giggles and chatter. The heads of every teenage boy whipped around to watch them as they claimed their favorite booth—ignorant of the attention they were receiving.

The head of every teenage boy—except Mamoru. He had only straightened his back as he heard them enter, and taken a long, slow sip of his coffee.

"I'm going in," Toe hissed, before turning and pushing his way through the sea of stuffing and faux fur.

"Wait! What do I do?"

"Stay here and watch," Toe instructed. "Take notes. Brainstorm."

Mistle glowered at the backs of his pointy ears until he had disappeared down the drop chute, before crossing her arms and unhappily watching the scene from within her glass box.

Minako was already ordering a round of milkshakes from Motoki as he set five glasses of water down on their table, while Usagi mimicked one of her least favorite teachers. Watching her, Ami and Makoto were gripped with laughter—Ami had tears running down her cheeks and Makoto was beginning to complain of a side ache through her gasps. Though Rei, who went to a different school, didn't quite understand the jokes, she couldn't help but smile and chuckle when Usagi gave her rendition of the teacher's last lecture—beginning with a monotone explanation of photosynthesis and ending with loud snores.

And just as Usagi fell onto Makoto's shoulder and was beginning to drool, Mamoru appeared beside their table, just as Toe had predicted.

"Odango Atama," he drawled, his lips pulling up into a smirk, "how did I know you would be a drooler?"

Her impersonation instantly over, Usagi shot up and fixed a seething glare on the man. "Mamoru-baka," she spat, "it looks like you're the one who's been drooling. How did you dribble that water all down your shirt like that?"

Frowning, Mamoru glanced down at the front of his shirt—finding it perfectly dry. "Odango, what are you ta—" He yelped as Usagi took her glass and threw a splash of water onto his face. Sputtering, Mamoru wiped the water away from his eyes with his sleeve and gawked at Usagi's very proud grin. The other four girls in the booth shrank away in embarrassment.

"Oops?" Usagi murmured innocently.

Before Mamoru lost his cool—which was evidently about to happen very soon—Rei reached for a handful of napkins and thrust them at him, letting him wipe off his face and neck while she gingerly dabbed at the front of his shirt. "Honestly, Usagi, do you have to be so immature in _public?_"

Usagi scowled. "He started it."

Mamoru grabbed the napkins from Rei, thanking her quietly, and turned his attention back to Usagi. She met his stare with confidence and sass, his lips turned up just enough to drive him batty—from anger or something else he was never sure.

"I think you look very suave like that, Mamoru-san," said Minako before Mamoru could speak. "That wet, slicked look makes you kind of look like a surfer. Or a supermodel. Or a surfer-supermodel."

Slowly sliding his eyes to the perky blonde at the edge of the booth, Mamoru forced himself to smile. "Thank you, Minako." He returned his arrogant grin to Usagi. "See that, Odango? You've improved me. I guess I should be thanking you."

She rolled her eyes. "It's twenty degrees outside, baka. Once you've turned into a human icicle I will agree that you've been _improved._"

"Five milkshakes for the ladies," said Motoki, saddling up to the table and unloading his tray. "What happened to you?" he asked, noticing Mamoru dripping beside him.

Forcing himself to smile, Mamoru shrugged and answered, "I'm trying out the surfer-supermodel look." With one last glance at Usagi's beaming face, he turned and sauntered back to his coffee at the counter, unable to ignore her snickering behind him. He recalled the days when he was able to win almost every one of their spats—always have the last word, the last laugh. But more and more often it seemed that he was losing his touch. Or maybe she was just getting better at the game.

"_Ho ho ho!_"

Mistle gasped and spun away from the scene, turning toward the arcade doors with her jaw agape. The rest of the arcade patrons followed suit, staring with mute astonishment at the red-suited man standing amid a flurry of snow. Mistle pressed her hands and nose to the glass, gawking at the big guy himself. He was unmistakable, with his rosy cheeks, his cherry nose, his droll little mouth drawn up like a bow and his beard as white as the snow, and all the rest of it just as Mistle knew and loved. Santa ho-ho-ho'd again and clopped into the arcade, stomping snow off his boots as he went.

"I come bearing gifts for all the good little boys and girls," he said, swinging a brown sack off his back and letting it drop unceremoniously to the linoleum floor. Mistle couldn't help but frown, knowing that this was certainly not Santa's style. Furrowing her brow, she scanned the arcade, noticing the speculative looks being exchanged amongst the customers (most of whom were speculative adolescents rather than enthusiastic children). She turned back to Santa and cocked her head to one side as the rotund man began ruffling through his pack, then she gasped as she spotted the tip of his ear jutting up beside the pointed, fur-lined cap. He had pointy ears—elf ears!

It wasn't Santa at all, but just Toe, larger now and all dressed up!

Leaning against Sponge Bob, Mistle wasn't sure if she should be offended at not being included in this scheme, or grateful that Toe hadn't asked her to be Mrs. Claus.

After a moment of ruffling through his pack, Santa emerged victorious with a long-haired Barbie doll and passed it to the nearest girl he saw—in this case, a twenty-seven year old waitress. She took it uncertainly, looking somewhat less than thrilled. Distressed, perhaps, but not thrilled.

After Toe-posing-as-Santa had handed out two Tonka trucks, one Tickle Me Elmo, and three Harry Potter Lego sets, he held up a couple of green paper slips with an overly jolly expression. "And what do I have here?" he bellowed, though his audience was beginning to lose interest and drift back to their game machines. "Why—here in my hand are two tickets to tonight's Christmas Extravaganza at the Broadway Theater!"

Squealing, Usagi shot her hand up and waved and wiggled to get Santa's attention. Of all the arcade's patrons, she was one of the few who seemed tickled and delighted by Santa's appearance. "Pick me!" she squealed, loud enough to be heard, but restrained enough to not seem _too_ pushy.

Toe stalled and blinked at her hopeful expression. His green eyes—another clue that he was only _posing_ as the twinkling-blue-eyed Santa—slowly scanned over the other four girls in the booth, watching Usagi with bemused expressions. He glanced at Mamoru, who was watching Usagi with stifled laughter.

Slowly, Rei raised her hand and smiled becomingly at Toe. "We would really _love_ to go to the show," she said, and it was obvious that she was only saying it to appease Usagi, who was now beaming with so much joy Toe felt his knees shaking.

"Why…" he muttered, stooping down and ruffling through the bag some more, "what do I have here, but…" He counted in his head. "…but six tickets to the Christmas Extravaganza!"

Usagi bounced happily in her seat as five of the tickets were passed between each of her friends. "Now… make sure you sit in the _exact seat_ indicated on your ticket," Toe warned, waggling his finger. "Because there's going to be a drawing, by seat number, and it would be bad luck to swap seats, you understand?"

Usagi nodded without question, even though the other girls were peering suspiciously at each other. With a shrug, Rei smiled at Toe and thanked him politely.

"My pleasure, dear! Now, who would like this _sixth and final_ ticket?" Toe practically shouted, even though the question went unanswered as he spun on the toes of his black boots and caught sight of Mamoru watching the scene from the counter. "You, son! You look like you would love to go to the Christmas Extravaganza!"

Mamoru guffawed and held up his hands in defiance as Santa approached him with the sixth ticket. "No, thanks, I'm fine," he said in a rush, the mere thought of sitting through such a show making him cringe. Reaching out, he grabbed Motoki by the apron strings and pulled him between Santa and himself. "But I'm sure my friend Motoki would _love_ to go. Right, Motoki? It's really much more his type of gig than mine."

Shrugging off Mamoru's hand, Motoki retightened his apron strings and smiled crookedly at Santa—who he thought had maybe been hired by his manager as a way to liven up the place, unbeknownst to his employees. "Sure, I'd like to go! You girls don't mind if I join you, do you?"

"Not at all!" the girls in the booth chorused with ear-to-ear grins.

Toe stared at Motoki from beneath his glue-on bushy eyebrows, his mouth hanging open in surprise beneath the snow-white beard. He stuttered and stammered and refused to let go of the green ticket even when Motoki reached for it curiously.

"Um…" Santa coughed, then suddenly brightened. "Ah, what do I have here?" He let Motoki have the ticket and a moment later was rummaging through his sack again. "Why—it's a _seventh ticket!_ There, now you can all go to the show. Oh, but uh…" He looked at the ticket in Motoki's hand, snatched it away, and replaced it with the new one. "You have that one. Here you go, son." Toe gave the other ticket to Mamoru and before there could be any protests, he slung the pack over his shoulder and scurried from the arcade, leaving the small crowd gawking after him.

Embarrassed, Mistle hid her head in Miss Piggy's feather boa and prayed that Santa—the real Santa—would never find out about this.

* * *

They were in the fourth row of the Broadway Theater—which was a really excellent row to be in—and seated according to the numbers on their tickets, as follows: Minako, Rei, Mamoru, Usagi, Ami, Makoto, and Motoki. Though Usagi had grimaced and sulked after being seated next to Mamoru, she refused to allow anyone to rectify the situation—after all, _Santa Claus_ had said it would be bad luck to change seats. 

Although the audience was still streaming in through the theater doors, two ushers stood at the back of the aisles interested only in the people seated in the fourth row.

"Maybe it's just me," Mistle drawled, in a tone that left no room for question that it was _not_ just her, "but I'm not seeing any sparks here, Toe."

Toe wanted to say something profound and educated about the rules of Homo sapien flirtation devices, but he couldn't. Not just because he wasn't all that well-read on the subject, but more because he agreed with Mistle—which he really hated to admit. The chemistry between Mamoru and Rei seemed practically nonexistent now that he got to really see them together. Friendly, yes. Polite, always. And he thought there _must_ be some attraction there, though it seemed more on the part of Rei than Mamoru and even _she_ didn't seem all that attached. Still, they had two and a half hours of Christmas joy to watch, seated right next to each other—knees and elbows rubbing. Surely, if anything was going to happen, it would happen here.

"Give it time," he told Mistle reassuringly. She just snorted, took her program, and walked away.

As he watched, trying to think of some way to bring Mamoru and Rei closer together, Toe saw an elderly woman and her grandson heading to their seats in row three. He was hardly the only person to notice them as the child took his seat in front of Mamoru and the lady, with her hair done up in an extravagant beehive fashion, sat in front of Usagi.

Short little Usagi's jaw dropped. Though the show had yet to start, she spent the next five minutes squirming and swaying from side to side, lifting herself up with her hands on the armrests, ducking down next to Ami to see over one shoulder, more cautiously ducking beside Mamoru to see over the other. Nothing worked.

"Usagi, what are you doing?" Mamoru hissed, knowing that he'd never be able to enjoy the show with her fidgeting next to him.

"I can't see over her head!" Usagi whispered back. The old lady didn't seem to hear her, though part of Usagi wished that she had.

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Do you want to trade seats?" The head of the kid in front of him barely peaked over the seat at all.

"Absolutely not!" Usagi declared, as if offended. "Remember? It's bad luck to trade seats."

"Oh, please. You don't believe that rubbish, do you? My seat has just as much a chance of winning this raffle as yours does."

Usagi glared at him, wondering if he was right or if Santa had been trying to tell her something when he'd handed her that one specific ticket. But once the emcee stepped onto the stage and was instantly hidden behind the woman's massive 'do, she knew she had no choice. "Okay, fine, let's switch."

From afar, Toe watched as Mamoru and Usagi swapped seats, and Mamoru was no longer next to Rei, True Love Option A. He wished he'd had enough forethought to place Minako on the other side. He sighed as Mistle rejoined him in the aisle.

"Well. Now what?" she asked, not quite as harshly as Toe was expecting.

"Do you think he and Rei have any chance at all?"

"Honestly? I think Donder has a better chance of leading the sleigh this Christmas Eve."

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Toe had no choice to concede. "Okay. On to Girl B."

And way down in the fourth row, with her seat with the perfect vantage point, Usagi spent the next two and a half hours enthralled by the show. She loved every song, every choreographed dance, every comedian, and every skit. By the time the performers were taking their final bows she felt bubbling over with the Christmas spirit.

Beside her, Mamoru found it amazing he was able to pay attention to the show at all. Not because of the beehive now planted firmly in his line of sight—he hardly noticed that. But rather because from the corner of his eye he could see Usagi's elated smile throughout the entire show—and it almost made him feel just as merry.

After the performers had deserted the stage for the final time, and before the audience could begin rushing for the doors, an usher in a red suit with gold buttons skipped onto the stage. Usagi perked up, instantly noticing the pointed ears emerging from the girl's curly red hair.

"Ladies and gentleman, before you go, we have some raffle prizes to give away. We will be drawing seat numbers. If that seat is yours, please come to the lobby with your ticket stub to claim your prize." First she gave away a nicely decorated gingerbread house, followed by a gift basket of chocolates and cookies, and a set of four Christmas dessert plates. "Our last two prizes are complimentary passes for one free ice skating session at Sprinker's rink. And the winners are Seat 4A—"

Mina gasped. "That's me!"

"And 4D. Congratulations!"

A moment later, Usagi was turning an ice-cold glare on Mamoru. "Rubbish, huh? That was my seat!"

Mamoru, who hated ice skating almost as much as he hated Christmas shows, was just about to suggest that she take the pass when he realized that that would be just what she wanted—and since when did he give her anything she wanted?

Turning to her, he tilted his chin up so that he was smirking down his nose in the most aggravating, haughty manner possible. "How ironic, isn't it? But don't worry, I'm sure Minako will bring you back a souvenir."

"Oh, don't be silly!" Mina said as they began standing up from their seats and drifting toward the lobby with the rest of the crowd. "It wouldn't be any fun without you all. Sure, Mamoru and I got free passes, but it's only, like, five bucks for a session. You should all come!"

As the girls excitedly agreed, Mamoru quickly found himself wishing that he'd just given up his pass in the first place.

* * *

The problem with ice skating was that at 6 foot 4 inches, Mamoru felt like he just had _so far_ to fall. Not that he ever did fall, mostly because he never went ice skating. He honestly had never felt as if he was missing out on much, and still didn't as he made his third loop around the rink with his hand firmly attached to the safety rail. Ahead, he could see the rink's exit and was just beginning to psych himself up for a nice cup of coffee (only fifteen yards to go), when he was smacked harshly from behind. 

Yelping, he felt his feet beginning to slide in opposite directions. Squeezing shut his eyes, he grasped the handle bar as tightly as he could and was able to keep from doing the splits—yeouch!—on the ice below. With a grunt, he pulled himself back up on the wobbling blades and turned to glare at his attacker.

"What are you doing?" Usagi asked from a few feet away, posing with her feet set up in a T and her hands on her hips. Even though the skates gave her an extra two inches of height and made her slender legs look impossibly long beneath a short pink skirt, Mamoru still towered over her. He hardly felt strong and powerful, though, as his hands started to ache from gripping the railing so tightly. Seeing him struggle, Usagi tilted her head to the side. "Don't tell me that the _perfect_ Chiba Mamoru doesn't know how to ice skate!"

He felt his stomach tighten—partly in embarrassment, partly in attempt to keep his eyes from drifting down to those legs again, and partly in envy. Usagi had been flitting around the rink since they got there, going frontward, backward, and sideways, and interspersing her directions with little twirls and skips. Here was the klutziest, most uncoordinated girl Mamoru had ever known, and she was making this look _easy._

"Give me a break, Odango Atama. This is only my second time on skates."

She furrowed her brow in confusion, before laughing. It was a lilting, charming sound that made Mamoru's stomach flip before he tightened it again. "But Mamoru-baka, this is only my _first_ time on skates!"

His stomach plummeted. "You're kidding."

"Nope!" To prove her point—although it certainly didn't prove anything—Usagi did a couple little spins.

Mamoru snorted with contempt. "Well at least I can _walk_ without falling down."

But Usagi didn't take the bait, too deliriously happy was she to have discovered something that she could do better than Mamoru. Instead, she strolled up to him and—surprise of surprises—wrapped her fingers around his wrist. He began to stumble away from her and just barely kept from falling down by slamming his back against the wall, both hands firmly on the rail again.

He gawked at her.

She gawked back. "What was that all about?"

Taking his eyes off of her, Mamoru scanned the crowd of cheerful skaters spinning around the rink again and again. "Uh… I slipped?"

Rolling her eyes, Usagi skated around so that she was positioned behind him, or what would have been behind him if he'd been facing the correct direction. "Okay, Mamoru, I'm just going to give you a little support. But first you have to let go of the rail."

"You know, Odango, that's okay. I'm fine, really. I'm just going to make my way to the exit and go have some coffee and wait for you guys to finish the session, okay? You go skate around. Do pirouettes or double-axles or something. Go on, go."

In response to Mamoru trying to shoo her away, Usagi just placed her hands firmly on her hips again. "Mamoru, you are at an ice skating rink. Here, people ice skate. Which means _you_ are going to ice skate. Now stop being such a baby and let me help you."

Before Mamoru and his bruised ego could retort, Usagi was standing before him and holding out her hand. "Come on, take my hand. I'll teach you."

Mamoru looked at her outstretched hand, the fair skin of her palm half-covered by the too-long sleeves of a white cashmere sweater, her rounded nails shining with a pale pink polish, a constellation of freckles clustered just above her thumb. It all nearly made his heart stop.

"Well? _Now_ what's wrong?" she asked impatiently.

Gulping, Mamoru turned his eyes back up to hers, licked his lips, and replied, "What if I fall and crush you?"

Usagi heard him and wanted to laugh, but something about the worry in his tone and the intense, honest concern in his impossibly blue eyes kept the laughter back. Instead, she smiled the warmest smile she could. "Then it would be payback for all the times I fell and nearly crushed you. Come on, Mamoru, it's fun. And… well, I was going to say that I won't let you fall, but I guess I don't have much control over that. Still, even if you do fall, it isn't the end of the world. You just have to get back up and keep going."

"I have a lot farther to fall than you do, Usa," he said with a cheeky grin, and nervously took her hand in his.

From the café, Mistle and Toe watched with unspoken confusion.

"I thought you said they despised each other."

"Well…" Toe coughed. "They do."

"Yes. It's so obvious."

"Hey, you saw them at the arcade yesterday. They fight like cats and dogs… most of the time."

Mistle quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced. "And where is Girl B, pray tell? I don't see her out on the rink at all."

With a sigh, Toe slumped down in his chair. "Minako is over there," he thrust is thumb over his shoulder. "Flirting with the concessions stand clerk."

Shaking her head, Mistle took a sip of her lukewarm cocoa. "That's going well then, isn't it?"

"Okay, evidently Minako flirts with _every_ guy, not just Mamoru. But that's okay, we still have two perfectly charming girls with soul mate potential."

Looking out at the skating rink again, they saw Usagi and Mamoru slowly making their way around the rink, their fingers laced as Usagi tutored him on the art of ice skating, one awkward, bumbling step at a time. It wasn't long before Ami and Makoto joined them, cheering Mamoru along. And when he did stumble, Makoto was the first to lend him support. Though Mamoru looked slightly embarrassed, he also looked grateful. And maybe even like he was having fun.

"The brunette is Girl C, I take it?"

Toe nodded. "Makoto. She's strong, she's generous, and she has excellent culinary skills."

"Match made in heaven," Mistle pretended to agree, her eyes locked on Mamoru and Usagi's intertwined hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Choose for Me, Old Santa Claus  
Part Two  
Alicia Blade **

"And Usagi-chan gets two snickerdoodles, three split-second, three bonbons, four chocolate truffles, and five shortbreads, and one gingerbread man," Makoto mumbled to herself, counting out the cookies and placing them on a square of layered cellophane and cheesecloth. She dusted her hands off on her apron and took a moment to peruse the baked goods, deciding to throw in one more snickerdoodle before pulling up the corners and tying the small package with a velvet ribbon. She stuck a candy cane and a card that read "Merry Christmas from Mako-chan" through the bow and tossed the gift to the pile of similarly wrapped packages. "Perfect!" she exclaimed proudly to herself, reaching for her list to cross off Usagi's name.

Pencil in hand, she stopped and stared down at the list. She blinked curiously. She shut her eyes, then opened one, then opened the other and frowned. "Mamoru?" she asked, to no one in particular. For there, written at the bottom of the list in very poor penmanship that was nothing like her own, was Mamoru's name.

Makoto slowly set the list on the counter and proceeded to cautiously cross off Usagi's name. Then, stepping away, she chewed absently on the pencil eraser for a moment. She looked at the scrawled name at the bottom of the list, then at the platters of cookies before her, and finally cast a long look at the little wrapped gifts piled up next to the toaster.

Finally she shrugged and gave up trying to figure out who had ever seen this list other than herself. "Well fine then. Mamoru too," she declared, and cut out another square of cheesecloth.

* * *

"Mako-chan, what did you bring us?" Usagi squealed, bouncing on the booth's leather seat as Makoto walked toward them, basket in hand.

"What is this I see? Usagi is _on time?_" Makoto teased, claiming a seat beside Ami and setting the basket temptingly on the table.

"I told Rei I would try to be better about that, remember?"

"Actually, it's not snowing right now, so she simply had nothing better to do," Rei joked.

"Or maybe she just knew that _somebody_ was planning on doing some major baking this morning. Do I smell gingerbread coming from that basket?" asked Mina.

"Among other things," Makoto said mysteriously, reaching into the basket and handing one package to each of the girls at the table. They squealed and cooed delightedly as they opened the bags and discovered all the delicacies within.

"Mako-chan, you're so sweet to do this! I can't imagine how you ever find the time!" Ami exclaimed gratefully, her praise instantly mimicked by the other girls.

"And not just the time to bake, but the time to bake _well,_" pointed out Rei. "You amaze us all."

Makoto scrunched up her face with modesty. "Nonsense, you know I love to do it. I just hope you enjoy them. Oh, Motoki-san, over here!" She waved to Motoki, who was loitering behind the counter watching the girls open their gifts with hungry eyes. Seeing Makoto calling him over, he grabbed up his notepad and rushed to her side.

"Hi Makoto-chan! Did you want to order something?"

"Oh—well, actually, yes, a hot cocoa, please. But actually I was calling you over because I made this for you." She handed him a cookie packet and watched delightedly as his eyes bugged in astonishment.

"Wow! For me, really? I've heard the best things about your cookies!"

"And it's all true," Usagi said through a mouthful of shortbread.

"Merry Christmas, Motoki-san," Makoto said with a huge smile. "I also made one for Mamoru-san, has he been in yet today?"

Usagi choked on her shortbread. "You made one for _him? Why?_"

Makoto thought that it probably wouldn't be the best idea to try and explain the magic gift list, so instead she just shrugged and said, "Because it's Christmas."

Ignoring Usagi's disgust, Makoto turned back to Motoki.

"No, haven't seen him today I'm afraid. But I can hold onto it and give it to him next time I see him if you'd like."

Makoto laughed at the conniving glint in Motoki's eye. "That's all right, I think I'd prefer to give it to him myself, thanks. Do you know where he lives? Maybe I'll just run over and drop it off this afternoon."

Motoki was happy to give Mamoru's address, and Usagi watched Makoto scribbling it onto a napkin with mute interest, and the oddest pang of concern. When, an hour later, the girls decided to head off for last-minute Christmas shopping, cleaning, and gift wrapping, Usagi felt that she had no other choice but to accompany Makoto to Mamoru's place. After all, she could not allow a friend of hers to venture into the unknown depths of evil incarnate's apartment without her by their side.

* * *

The apartment building was on the fringes of downtown—a towering structure that loomed over a park, a shopping center, and a cluster of office buildings. Though the building was beginning to look dated beside the sleek new constructions half a block away, its exterior brickwork and darkly painted window trim had character, and the quaint covered walkway leading to the main entrance made it feel terrifically cosmopolitan. The two girls walked into the lobby with wide eyes, admiring a stone fireplace and marble floors and an antique dial above the elevators. The place did not exactly scream of elegance, or class, or even money, but there was no doubt in either of their minds that it still must cost a pretty penny to live there.

"What do you suppose his parents do for a living?" Usagi murmured as the elevator doors closed and they felt themselves slowly ascending.

Makoto looked at her and in their moment of shared pondering, it occurred to both of them that they'd never heard Mamoru, or Motoki, speak of Mamoru's parents. Not even in passing reference.

The elevator dinged at Mamoru's floor and they stepped into a green and brown carpeted hallway with beige walls and mod sconces. Most of the doors lining the hall had Christmas wreaths on them. Mamoru's did not.

Makoto knocked on his door, much too calmly thought Usagi, who was continuously wiping her sweating hands off on her jeans.

It seemed to Usagi that Mamoru took _forever_ to answer the door, even though Makoto seemed to be completely oblivious to the slow ticking of some hypothetical clock. When the door finally did swing open, Mamoru stood before them looking surprised, curious, and oddly handsome in sweats and a t-shirt.

His blue eyes swept over them. "Hello?"

"Merry Christmas!" Makoto answered, holding out the cellophane and cheesecloth and velvet package.

Mamoru politely took the gift from her hands, looking down on it with mute confusion.

"I hope you don't mind that Motoki told us where you live. I make Christmas cookies every year to pass out and wanted to make sure you got yours before Christmas."

"Thank you," he timidly responded, somehow looking unnaturally grateful and uncertain at the same time.

"You're very welcome. That was all. Merry Christmas, Mamo—"

"Can we come in?"

Mamoru and Makoto both looked down at Usagi, surprised by the first words she'd spoken. In fact, she looked a little bit surprised at it herself, and quickly lowered her head and began analyzing the tips of her boots. She noticed that Mamoru was barefoot and had surprisingly nice feet. It was a thought she didn't think she'd ever had about anyone before.

"I just… um… I always like seeing where people live," she mumbled, feeling a blush tinting her cheeks. It was the truth—she'd always felt that seeing a person's home told you something about them, something that you couldn't discern about them in any other manner. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive."

She was too busy fiddling with the hem of her jacket to notice Mamoru's quirky smile. "'Intrusive,' Odango? That must be the most syllables I've ever heard you cram into one word."

All signs of embarrassment instantly disappearing, Usagi raised her head to retort, but Mamoru had already stepped aside and was holding his arm out in a welcoming gesture.

"Of course you can come in."

If there had been even the tiniest bit of teasing or dishonesty in his tone, Usagi would have continued with the retort on the tip of her tongue, but there wasn't. So instead, she glanced at Makoto who looked as if she couldn't care one way or the other if they went inside, and then walked past Mamoru with hesitant steps.

"Would you like some tea or something?" he asked, sounding awkward again as he shut the door behind them. Usagi barely heard him, too busy staring at the living room they were now standing in. Her eyes roved over the sofa, the coffee table, the fireplace, strangely disappointed. The place was very nice, to be sure, but also… dull.

"Where are all your decorations?"

"Decorations?" asked Mamoru, his eyes darting around the room. Usagi could tell by his expression that he was trying to see the room as if it was the first time, like how Usagi and Makoto were seeing it now. "I don't… really have any." He was looking at the empty corner beside the window and mentally kicking himself for not getting that Christmas tree like he'd planned.

"But don't your parents?" Usagi asked, shocked at the thought that anyone could live through the month of December without putting up at least _something_ to remind them of the season. Then she gasped, turning to Mamoru. Under her stunned and suddenly terribly sad expression, he couldn't help but shrink away, certain that she'd figured out the fact that he had no parents at all. But instead, she asked, "Does your family not celebrate Christmas?"

He almost wanted to laugh at the devastation on her face. "We do," he assured her, wondering if the word _we_ made it a lie. To partly clear his conscience, he added, "I've just been busy lately."

Looking only slightly appeased, Usagi turned back to the living room and exclaimed, "Oh, wow, look at that view!" Then she was dragging Makoto excitedly toward the balcony and Mamoru felt a tinge of relief that her questioning appeared to be over. After dropping off the small bag of cookies at the kitchen counter, he turned to join the two girls on the balcony, but froze at the sight before him.

Usagi was laughing and gathering up the snow from the railing ledge with her bare hands, clumping it into snowballs, and throwing it as hard as she could at some target she'd chosen in the park across the street. When she threw one particularly well she would squeal with pride and jump up and down on the balls of her feet. It wasn't long before she'd convinced Makoto to join her in a devised contest to see who could throw farther. From Usagi's pouting it was obvious that Makoto won with every throw, yet Usagi didn't tire of the game until the railing had been completely wiped clean of the snow. Finally she turned back toward the glass door with a glowing smile, and caught Mamoru watching her through the glass.

Gasping, he turned away and spent a moment pretending to be tidying up the living room, though he knew the premise must have looked completely ridiculous. The living room was spotless.

The girls drifted back inside, tracking snow in on their shoes and letting the cold air in with him. It was refreshing, but not as refreshing as Usagi's lingering grin.

"This is a really nice place," said Makoto. "Thanks for letting us come in."

"Of course," Mamoru said, feeling as though he'd been a terrible host. But then, he hadn't exactly been coached in the etiquette of surprise guests, or any guests for that matter. "Thanks again for the cookies."

He walked them to the door, hoping they didn't think he wanted them to leave, but having no reason to ask them to stay.

"By the way," said Usagi, sounding as though she'd been debating on mentioning something for awhile, "I know it's practically too late, but…" She hesitated, looking at Mamoru, then peering over his shoulder and pointing. "That corner would be a really great place for a Christmas tree."

He turned to look at the designated space between the fireplace and the sliding glass door and chuckled. "It would, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe next year," Usagi said, relieved that Mamoru had agreed with her.

"Maybe." Mamoru answered with unrestrained whimsy. He waited until they'd rounded the hallway corner before he shut the door.

* * *

Again on the rooftop kitty-corner from the apartment building, Mistle watched Mamoru through a pair of binoculars as he wandered back into his living room and collapsed onto the black leather sofa. He looked as if the past ten minutes had exhausted him.

"We should have bugged the place," Toe muttered beside her. "I haven't a clue what they said."

"Want me to translate for you?"

"Oh, so you're a lip-reader now?"

"I'm a _people reader,_" Mistle responded haughtily, lowering the binoculars. "Mamoru was grateful for the cookies, but not overly excited that they came from Makoto. Usagi was the one who wanted to come inside—not Makoto. And when the girls were out on the balcony, Mamoru had his eyes glued to Usagi—not Makoto."

"What are you getting at?"

Leveling her eyes on Toe and pressing her lips together in agitation, Mistle shook her head. "Absolutely nothing," she answered sarcastically. "Except for there is obviously nothing between Mamoru and Makoto."

Toe glowered. "And what else?"

"Oh, _please,_ don't you see just a little bit of chemistry between Mamoru and Usagi?"

Snorting, Toe raised the binoculars to his eyes again. Mamoru had put his shoes on and made his way out to the balcony and was now stooping to gather up snow a handful of snow. "Usagi is obviously a very sweet girl," Toe conceded, watching Mamoru choose a target in the park and throw the snowball as hard as he could. His expression made him look more like he was conducting a science experiment than playing a game. "But you have to admit that she's also a little bit flaky, and she and Mamoru have nothing in common."

"Well so far nothing seems to be happening between Mamoru and all these girls he supposedly has _so much_ in common with."

"There's still one more girl we can try. And let me tell you, Mizuno Ami is exceptionally brilliant and has a mild and gentle spirit. She really could be just what he needs."

"Perhaps," Mistle said doubtfully, now peering through her binoculars as well. "Or perhaps he needs someone flaky enough to throw snowballs at nothing."

* * *

The next day, Mamoru found himself heading toward the arcade with visions of cookies and snowflakes dancing through his head. It was Christmas Eve and he was just beginning to get that unsettling feeling one gets when they have no plans for Christmas Day. A feeling of uncertainty and loneliness and envy at all the millions of people who would be spending the day with their families.

He knew that he had no real cause for complaint though, as Motoki had invited Mamoru to join his family for their Christmas celebration weeks ago, and Mamoru had declined. He had _War and Peace_ to finish, after all. And more than anything, he despised feeling like a burden. Or worse, a charity case. Not that Motoki would ever think of him in that way, but Mamoru couldn't help feeling it regardless.

But he figured that Christmas was only twenty-four hours long and he would spend at least eight of it sleeping, which left just sixteen hours to entertain himself. With movies and books available it should be no big deal. He even thought that maybe he would make himself a fancy dinner or something and live off of leftovers until New Year's.

"Excuse me, young man?"

Mamoru halted and turned to the wavering voice. His gaze fell on an old lady with gray hair wrapped up in a plastic rain hood and a short, round body draped with more shawls and skirts and scarves than belonged in a department store. Poking out from beneath the longest skirt were two green shoes with pointed toes topped with tiny little bells.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"I certainly hope so," she said in a sweet and timid voice. She hobbled toward Mamoru and held up a map of downtown Tokyo. "I'm trying to find the Osa-P Jewelry Shop, but I keep getting all turned around. Could you please help me find it?"

"Oh, sure," Mamoru answered with the most charming smile he could manage for the lost and confused old lady. "That's on the corner of Fourth and Cherry, right?"

"Yes—that sounds familiar."

"Come on, I'm heading in that direction anyway."

Frail and crooked as she looked, the lady proved to be surprisingly quick and agile as they continued down the sidewalk. The jewelry store was less than two blocks away, as it turned out, and the lady spent the short jaunt quizzing Mamoru on his love life, a topic that always made him want to crawl into a snug, warm cave and never come out.

"It's just that I have a granddaughter who I think you would _adore,_" the lady said. "But you certainly don't seem like the kind of chap who would need any help finding a lady friend, now do you? Tell me, do you have a lady friend?"

Mamoru coughed and looked shyly the other way.

"Ah, well is there a special sweetheart you have your eye set on then?" she prompted.

And while the image of Usagi catching snowflakes on her tongue briefly flittered through Mamoru's mind, he adamantly answered that no, he did not presently have his eye set on anyone. Though the lady was sweet and more or less likeable, Mamoru was grateful to see the Osa-P windows come into view. He opened the door for the lady as she thanked him profusely and offered him a five dollar bill, which he politely declined. But just as he was about to resume his walk to the arcade, he glanced inside the jewelry shop and recognized blue-haired Ami hovering over one of the cases looking awfully distraught.

His eyes instantly did a scan of the rest of the store, expecting to see two blonde odangos loitering somewhere near the diamond case, but Ami appeared to be alone. Sighing, he wandered in to see what she was so upset about.

"Ami!" he called, startling her.

"Oh, Mamoru! How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. I was just walking by and noticed you in here and thought I'd come say hello."

"Well it's lovely to see you. Are you excited for the holiday?"

"I guess," he answered vaguely. From the corner of his eye, Mamoru was sure the little old lady was watching them. He found the realization unnerving. "So are you doing some last-minute shopping?"

Ami's smile faltered. "I guess you could say that, and I'm kicking myself for waiting this long. You see, me and the girls have a bit of a tradition. Instead of each buying gifts for everyone, we make a list of the gifts each of us _really_ want. Then we pool our money together and I go out and buy the gifts and pass them out Christmas Eve. That way we spend just as much money as we would buying many small gifts, but everyone gets what they want, you see."

Mamoru nodded, for the first time noticing multiple shopping bags at Ami's feet. "So what's wrong?"

Sighing, Ami tapped on the glass case beside her. "Usagi-chan asked for this ruby moon pendant that she saw here last week, but it's already sold. I was able to get the gifts that everyone else asked for, but I hate to disappoint Usagi-chan."

"I see…" Mamoru murmured, and he truly did understand. The thought of Usagi being disappointed was a miserable thought to endure. "Well, is there anything else you think she might like?"

"Oh, I'm sure she'd be happy with anything we got her, but it's just that she has this… obsession with moons. She collects moon-shaped things, which is why the pendant would have been so perfect for her. And they _do_ have this…" She led Mamoru toward another case and pointed down at a crescent moon-shaped pendant hanging from a gold chain with five glittering diamonds running along the moon's inner curve. Even Mamoru, who knew nothing about women's jewelry—or men's for that matter—could see that it was an exceptional piece. Ami continued, "Which Usagi would love, of course, but it's $800, more than four times what the other pendant had cost." She sighed sadly.

"$800? Is that all?" Ami gave him an irritated look that made him laugh. "I just thought that jewelry was supposed to cost one month's salary or something like that."

"That's for an engagement ring, Mamoru."

Maybe he should have felt embarrassed by his misunderstanding, but his brain was thinking far too ahead to bother. "Well I can chip in to buy this for her!"

Quirking an eyebrow, Ami looked down at the beautiful gold-and-diamond pendant, then raised speculative eyes back to Mamoru. "That would be $620, Mamoru."

"No problem," he said, already reaching for his wallet. "I'll put in my card and you give me your part and we'll call it good."

Ami's look of suspicion had changed to one of disbelief. "Are you serious? But you don't even like Usagi-chan!"

"That's not true!" he proclaimed, perhaps a bit too adamantly. Then he quickly turned away and fished his credit card out of his wallet before Ami could see just how not true it was. "She did teach me how to ice skate, after all. And I haven't bought any presents this year, so we'll just call this my one good holiday deed, all right?"

Ami looked both elated and smug, nodding her head in agreement. "I must say I think she'll be thrilled to get a gift from you. It'll be like making a brand new start for the new year!"

"Oh, no, no, no, you can't _tell_ her it's from me!"

"Why not? You're paying much more than the rest of us."

"Well, sure, but…" Mamoru teetered uncertainly from one foot to the other. "But she would probably throw it away if she knew it was from me."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure Usagi would appreciate it that much more."

Shrugging, Mamoru called a clerk over with a wave of his hand. "Just… please don't tell her I had anything to do with it, okay? Let it be from you and the rest of her friends. I… I don't want her to get the wrong idea."

Ami thought that she could see a hint of a blush on Mamoru's cheeks and decided not to press the issue further. Instead she thanked him profusely and wondered what the "wrong idea" would be.

From the store's far corner, Mistle watched the two leave the store, pendant nicely wrapped in a small silver box. Pursing together her winkled lips, she removed the plastic hood from her gray hair and sighed. She could tell that Toe's Possible Soul Mate #4 was not going to be any more successful than the others. But Impossible Soul Mate #1 had possibility. Despite the teasing, the taunting, the fighting, there was definitely something between Mamoru and Usagi.

Something magical.

* * *

"Fine. Let's just assume you're right about this."

"Which I am."

Toe took a moment to glare at Mistle, before continuing to pace around the toy aisle with one hand stroking the tip of his ear thoughtfully. "So you're saying that Tsukino Usagi, who is immature, irresponsible, and gets bad grades, is meant for Chiba Mamoru, who is dedicated, focused, and very intelligent."

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. Although I think you're being awfully hard on poor Usagi-chan. Haven't you noticed how witty she can be when Mamoru teases her? And how sweet she was to help him at the ice skating rink? Plus, she's just so… so…"

"Happy?"

"Yes. Happy. And I think someone with that much joy and jolliness would be very good for Mamoru, don't you?"

Toe sighed. "Well… yes, I suppose so. But how can we possibly accomplish this? Christmas Eve is almost over already, and they can't very well go from loathing enemies to loving soul mates overnight, can they?"

"I don't think they've been at the loathing enemies stage for a long time now. I think they've just been really good at hiding their true feelings is all."

"And you have a way of getting them to show their true feelings?"

Leaning against a My Size Barbie, Mistle twirled a red curl around her finger. "Actually… no. Not really." Toe stopped pacing again to glare at her, unimpressed. "I'm sorry, Toe, but this whole escapade has made me realize that you and I are just not cut out for the matchmaking business. Toys I can handle. Christmas decorations, fine. I think I could even get a snowstorm in Hawaii if some kid wished enough for it. But true love and soul mates and all that? It just isn't our forte."

Slowly, Toe lowered his head. From his subspace pocket, he pulled out Mamoru's file and flipped through until he found the letter that had been penned to Santa nearly ten years ago. "Maybe you're right. I just really wanted to grant this one Christmas wish. I'm afraid poor Mamoru thinks that Santa has forgotten him completely."

Pushing herself away from the doll, Mistle wrapped her arm around Toe's shoulder. "We know better, though. Santa hasn't forgotten him, and I'm sure Santa is working on getting him something very special right now."

"As special as someone to love?"

"Maybe. Who knows what the big guy has up that pointed little hat of his? Besides, even if Mamoru and Usagi don't get each other for Christmas, Valentine's Day is only a couple months away, and I'm sure we can put in a special request to Cupid. He _is_ a close cousin, after all."

A slow grin crawled over Toe's lips. "Good point, Mistle. Mamoru has plenty of Christmases still to come. I'm sure someday he'll have the best Christmas ever, even if he is out of our jurisdiction."

"That's the Christmas spirit! Now come on, it's Christmas Eve and there are billions of kids out there dreaming of the perfect gift. We can't disappoint them!"

"You're right! Come on, we have dolls to paint and nutcrackers to carve and Nintendo Wiis to assemble! What are we doing lingering in this toy aisle?"

"Getting inspiration?" Mistle mused, but Toe had already disappeared in an excited gust of snow.

* * *

"They're just what I wanted!" Minako squealed, pulling the leopard-print pumps out of the box with glowing eyes and wasting no time in slipping them onto her bare feet. "And they fit perfectly! How did you _know?_" A moment later she was teetering around Makoto's living room on the red stilettos.

"Mina-chan, take those off before you break your ankle," Rei scolded, taking her own present from Ami. "Hmm, now what could this be? Let me guess—is it a photo album? A box of decadent truffles?" She gasped as she pulled off the silver wrapping paper. "New sheets! Egyptian cotton even! You are _the best._"

"Honestly, Ami-chan, you have a gift for giving the perfect gifts," Makoto said with a wink, already flipping through the recipe book that came included with her stainless steel fondue fountain.

"What can I say? It's instinctual. And last but not least, this one is for darling Usagi-chan."

Usagi took the small box with hardly contained anticipation. She tore off the bow and ribbon and paper without hesitation. "I can't imagine what it is," she lied, as was part of the tradition, pulling off the box's lid. Then she gasped, a real gasp, her eyes widening and her free hand flying to her mouth. Immediately realizing that something was different (Usagi was the worst actress among them), Rei, Minako, and Makoto all leaned forward in curiosity.

"What's wrong, Usagi?"

Slowly, Usagi shook her head and raised her stunned blue eyes to Ami. "Ami-chan, this isn't… I mean, it's… it's _gorgeous,_ but this isn't the one…"

"I know. The ruby pendant had already been sold, so I chose this one instead."

Reaching into the box, Usagi lifted the pendant from its tiny pillow and held it up for the girls to see. The light caught on the five tiny diamonds, making them sparkle like stars on the moon's golden backdrop. The girls all agreed that it was particularly lovely and spectacular. "And it cost the same amount?" Usagi asked in surprise.

Ami lowered her eyes and played with the buttons on her new digital camera. "More or less," she answered obscurely, before raising the camera with a huge smile. "Okay, everyone, get together with your new gifts! I want to take your picture!"

Hours later, Ami had almost filled up her first memory card with hundreds of sweet and goofy pictures of her best friends, Makoto was already in her kitchen trying to concoct a chocolate mixture for dipping her leftover cookies in, and they were all having a grand time strutting around in Minako's new shoes and pretending to be supermodels.

But when Makoto called them to the kitchen to sample her first fondue, Ami grabbed Usagi's elbow and held her back with guilt written on her face.

"What is it, Ames?" Usagi asked, her irritation at being kept from the chocolate instantly wiped away when she saw Ami's concerned expression.

"I need to tell you something. I probably shouldn't. In fact, I promised Mamoru that I wouldn't, but I think you deserve to know."

Usagi furrowed her brow in curiosity. "Mamoru?"

Nodding, Ami took a deep breath and explained, "That pendant was a lot more expensive than the Ruby one, Usagi-chan. More than $600 more expensive, in fact." Usagi's eyes bugged, but she continued, "And I of course couldn't afford that, but then I ran into Mamoru and told him and… well, he insisted on buying it for you." She watched as Usagi's jaw dropped and her hand came up to finger the pendant at her collarbone. "He didn't want you to know."

"Why?"

Ami shrugged. "He said… that he didn't want you getting the wrong idea." When Usagi's brow creased with confusion, Ami couldn't help but add, "Actually, Usagi-chan, I got the impression that he didn't want you getting the _right_ idea."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she said, smiling impishly. "Come on, the girls are going to wonder what's taking so long."

But in the kitchen, but Usagi hardly tasted the chocolate at all.

* * *

Tolstoy had lost all interest for Mamoru by 8:30 Christmas morning, and channel surfing had ceased to appeal by 9:00, when it became painfully obvious that every channel had snowmen, reindeers, and a story with a moral. So Mamoru got off the couch, started a second pot of coffee, and cracked a couple eggs into a pan hoping that a nice breakfast would make him feel better.

While the eggs sizzled and the coffee pot gurgled, Mamoru stared out the window at the street, buildings, and park below. It had snowed again the night before, covering the city in a fresh blanket of sparkling white and quiet serenity. The streets were practically devoid of traffic and the bustle of the previous few days had disappeared. Everyone was inside, enjoying home cooking, gifts, and the warmth of a family to spend Christmas with.

Irritated, Mamoru escaped back toward his kitchen. He hated it when he got in these self-pitying moods. He rarely did anymore, but something about Christmas, and all those family-oriented holidays, brought out the worst in him. He decided that after breakfast he would take a walk, clear his head, enjoy the quiet of a city that was horrendously loud every other day of the year. Somehow, his thoughts drifted to Usagi. He chuckled to himself, remembering how her face had lit up at the Christmas Extravaganza. Then his laughter turned to a whimsical smile when he thought of her tiny hand in his own as they'd skated around the ice rink. Never had he felt so happy to be somewhere, with someone.

He wondered if she had liked the pendant and felt a pang of regret knowing that she would never know it was partly from him.

He was just having a fantasy where he gave the pendant to Usagi himself and she launched herself into his arms with sheer gratitude and flattery and allowed him to clasp it around her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin and the feathery softness of her hair… when a knock at the door startled him into jumping and dropping the spatula.

"Coming!" he called, flustered, and rushed to the door.

And there, on the other side, stood a Christmas tree. Possibly the most bedraggled Christmas tree he'd ever seen, with broken branches and balding limbs and a crooked trunk. Mamoru blinked.

Then Usagi's smiling face appeared from behind the tree and the sad thing looked positively beautiful. "Merry Christmas!"

"Usagi-chan?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him and opened her mouth to speak again, but then her grin fell into a look of confusion. "Is something burning?"

With a gasp, Mamoru spun around and marched back to the kitchen. Indeed, the eggs had turned to a somewhat blackened mush. Withholding the curse that tried to escape, Mamoru removed the skillet from the burner and turned on the fan. He noticed that the coffee pot was full, too, but didn't bother as he cautiously returned to the living room. Usagi had dragged the tree inside and shut the door and was looking around with that same confused look. When she noticed him at the kitchen door, she smiled again—slightly more uncertainly than the last brilliant grin.

"Usagi… what a surprise." His eyes drifted of their own will down to the gold moon charm at her neck.

"I brought you a Christmas tree." She looked at the decrepit thing warily, though kept her face loyally plastered with a smile. "Um… all the tree sellers were closed so I… I just kind of stumbled upon this one… I thought it would be better than nothing."

It looked as though it had been discovered in a dumpster, but Mamoru was too impressed and astonished to say so. "Thank you," he managed.

"I know it isn't nearly as nice as the pendant, which is absolutely beautiful, by the way, but I thought…"

"Pendant? Ami told you?"

Usagi pursed her lips together and dug her toe into his carpet. "Well, yes. And don't be mad at her. I'm so glad she did! I never would have known otherwise."

"That was the point," he muttered, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to be upset. "What am I thinking? Here, let me take that from you. I think I have a tree stand somewhere, but maybe for now we can just prop it up over here." He carried it to the designated corner and let the mangled thing rest against the wall. "Thanks, Usagi-chan. You didn't have to do this, but…" He searched his mind for some way of expressing the unexpressable, but when he turned to her all he could think to say was, "It's really great to see you."

Surprised, she lowered her gaze and smiled.

"Why aren't you home? Isn't your family doing something for Christmas?"

"Oh, sure, but my grandparents and aunts and uncles aren't showing up until later this afternoon, and I wanted to bring this to you before it was too late." She curiously looked around the room. "I would have liked to bring lights and ornaments, too, but all the stores are closed. I was hoping maybe your parents had some in a box stowed away…. Where are your parents, anyway? You aren't home alone on Christmas, are you?"

Mamoru stared at her, nervously fiddling with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Um… actually, Usagi, I…" He gulped, his heart pounding, and felt weak as she patiently waited for him to continue with that innocent gaze of hers. "My parents died when I was a kid. I live here alone."

Her eyes widened. "Are you kidding?" When he looked away, Usagi clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh! That was such an awful thing to ask. I'm sorry! It's just… I had no idea!"

"It's all right. I know you didn't know." To avoid the awkward silence that was already threatening to set in, Mamoru continued, "But I do think I have ornaments and lights somewhere, probably with the tree stand, wherever that is, so I should be able to find something…"

Usagi nodded. "Or even just some ribbon would work. Or maybe we could string popcorn together?"

Mamoru laughed at the thought of spending hours stringing popcorn in his living room with Usagi in order to decorate that awful tree for just one day. Then he stopped laughing when he realized what a lovely idea that was.

But Usagi had already shrank away from the laughter. "Never mind, I don't want to take up your time. I just wanted to bring you the tree, so I guess I can leave now if you'd like."

"No! That isn't… I mean, you don't have to leave. Unless you want to, but… um… Well I was just making some breakfast if you'd like to stay and eat."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Sure! I'd love to!"

Relieved, Mamoru rushed back to the kitchen before she could change her mind. A moment later he had scraped the toasted eggs out of the pan and was starting some more—plus sausage and toast—and Usagi had climbed up onto a stool at the counter. "So Mamoru, what are you doing today? If you don't have any family to spend it with…"

Mamoru shrugged, unable to feel sad with Usagi sitting there chatting with him on this day of days. "No plans. I was thinking of taking a walk later."

"A walk? By yourself?"

He chuckled at her aghast tone. "Well sure. It's better than being cooped up in here alone."

"But that's terrible! Why don't you come spend it with my family?"

Mamoru guffawed.

"No, I'm serious. Mom always makes tons of food and…" She hesitated, feeling blood rushing to her cheeks. "And I'd like you to come. If you want to."

Slowly, a grin crept onto Mamoru's face. "I won't be a burden?"

She grimaced. "Of course not!"

"Okay. Then sure… thank you."

She bounced happily on the stool, watching with glowing eyes as Mamoru tossed the eggs and flipped the sausage. "After we eat breakfast and decorate the tree, of course."

"Right. But we still have to come up with decorations somehow."

"I thought you said you might have a box of them somewhere."

Swaying uncomfortably, Mamoru confessed, "I lied. I don't think I have any ribbon or popcorn either."

"No ribbon or popcorn! What are you, a bachelor?" she teased, then added thoughtfully, "I guess we'll just have to get _really_ creative then."

Just then there was a loud chorus of clunking and crashing and thudding and thumping from the fireplace. Startled, Usagi ran out into the living room. Mamoru soon followed after removing their food from the stove—not to burn two breakfasts in one morning. As they watched, some ash and soot began to trickle down from the chimney. Then a bit more ash and soot followed by a puff of gray smoke, as all the clanging grew louder. Slightly frightened, Usagi reached for Mamoru's hand.

Then the rumbling stopped. Mamoru squeezed Usagi's fingers nervously at one last trickle of ash. And then with a thud, one large box landed beside the hearth. It was wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with string and was covered in soot smudges.

Mamoru looked curiously at Usagi. She looked curiously back.

"Santa Claus?" she whispered reverently.

"I don't believe in Santa Claus," he whispered back, though his expression was doubtful.

With a gulp, and without releasing Usagi's hand, Mamoru approached the package. No other mysterious gifts—or men in red suits for that matter—appeared to be forthcoming. Slowly he let go of Usagi's hand and reached into the fireplace for the package. Setting it on the hearth, he took a moment to dust it off and discovered a small green tag that read: 

To: Chiba Mamoru  
From: Santa Claus

P.S. Been awfully busy, what with population increases and whatnot. Terribly sorry this is so late.

"It _is_ from Santa Claus," Usagi murmured with wide eyes.

Mamoru couldn't help think it was just some elaborate prank, but didn't have the heart to mention that to her. So instead, he slowly untied the little twine bow and peeled away the brown paper. The box itself was white with a silver lid. He couldn't help holding his breath as he pulled the lid away.

First there was only tissue paper and tinsel. But then, as Mamoru dug, he discovered a long string of tiny white Christmas lights. And then a package of neat glass ornaments, followed by a box of neat wooden ornaments. There was a roll of thick embroidered ribbon and two strands of pre-strung popcorn. Oddly enough, he even discovered a box that contained firmly packed snow and a carton of "Authentic North Pole Vanilla Ice Cream."

Usagi watched on with glee, clapping her hands delightedly at each new gift. "See? Santa new exactly what you needed!" she exclaimed as Mamoru pulled out a tin tree stand and a golden star tree topper.

"But Santa doesn't exist…" Mamoru murmured disbelievingly, desperately trying to figure exactly how this was all possible. Was his chimney even big enough for such a box to squeeze through?

Finally he pulled away the last bit of tissue paper to find the bottom of the box lined with dozens of sprigs of mistletoe. He and Usagi both blinked down on it and Mamoru couldn't help but wonder if Santa really _did_ know exactly what he needed.

"Well…" Mamoru said, coughing uncomfortably. "I suppose that goes on the tree too?"

"You can't put all of it on the tree, silly."

"Why not?"

Usagi glanced at him mockingly, as if the question was purely ludicrous. "Because how much time do you spend under the tree? You need to hang this some place where you're sure to catch that special girl underneath it."

He stared at her, his heart fluttering.

Mistaking his nerves for misunderstanding, Usagi sighed and reached inside for a sprig of mistletoe. "You know, so you can kiss her? When two people get caught under mistletoe together they have to kiss. So you should orchestrate it so that, you know, you can get kissed. A doorway is always a good place." She was looking around the room, searching for the perfect place to hang the mistletoe, but Mamoru couldn't take his eyes from her. He found himself hoping, wishing, praying, that she would absentmindedly hold up the mistletoe and give him the perfect excuse to lean forward and…

"Or maybe from that light?" she suggested, looking up at the small chandelier above their heads. "That would be a great place for it, don't you think?" she asked, and to show Mamoru just how perfect it would be, she jumped to her feet and stood on her tiptoes and reached upward in an attempt to tie the mistletoe to the chandelier.

She was too short, of course, but it hardly mattered as Mamoru jumped up next to her, wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips hungrily to hers. She gasped against him and dropped the mistletoe, but he couldn't stop. Slowly, shakily, Usagi closed her eyes and lowered her arms, cupping Mamoru's face tenderly in her hands and swooning as he pulled her body against his.

When he pulled away, Usagi had completely forgotten about the mysterious gift and the sprig of mistletoe and even that it was Christmas at all. She could only think that Mamoru had kissed her with those most divine lips and never had she felt anything so perfectly wonderful and disarming and comforting in her entire life. Slowly she opened her eyes to look at him and could begin to feel her fingers again, lost somewhere in his silky hair. And soon the ground became solid beneath her feet and there he was, arms still around her, intense blue eyes watching her with hope and nerves and absolute terror.

She laughed. Laughed at the absurdity that Mamoru was kissing her. Laughed at the absurdity that he could think for a moment she wouldn't want him to.

The sound tickled Mamoru's ears and he thought it was a good sound, a kind sound, but part of him wondered if maybe she was just laughing at him? But then her fingers were stroking the sides of his face with sweet tenderness and he could see nothing but joy in her pale blue eyes. So he laughed too, at the absurdity that this had taken so long.

And if it hadn't been for Santa's gift…

The thought was unable to finish itself as Usagi reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently again. In the buzzing euphoria of his thoughts, Mamoru thought for a moment he heard the sound of reindeer hooves many floors above them, and the rumbling, jolly laughter of Santa Claus drifting down with the snow.

There are few things in life for which pleasure does not diminish as one ages. Things such as catching snowflakes on ones tongue ranks highly. Brown paper packages tied up with string. An apron covered with flour and the scent of gingerbread on the air. Heartfelt gifts purchased with nothing more than the desire to see one special person's smile.

And of course, there's always Santa—perhaps the ultimate in enchantments with his workshop of elves, his reindeer-driven sleigh, and the promise of delivering your heart's most desired gift.

These are the magical things that can never be taken away.


End file.
